


What Happens In the Cells... Stays in the Cells

by AnonAutobot



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Frottage, Kink Meme, M/M, Mindfuck, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sticky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-10
Updated: 2015-03-10
Packaged: 2018-03-17 06:08:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3518273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonAutobot/pseuds/AnonAutobot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Written for this kink meme prompt: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/10462.html?thread=8898014#t8898014</p><p>I am kind of ashamed to be typing this out. I've been recently reading a lot of fic, and somehow the brain decided to mash little elements of them into one bunny. This has got to be the darkest bunny that has bitten me in a long while, but I couldn't get it out of my head, so here goes nothing:</p><p>Warning: Might be a little squicky to some people, and it has to be sticky to work technically.</p><p>The Autobots lost, and Ark mechs are being held in cells while the Decepticons mop up the last of the resistance fighters elsewhere. There is a "no-interfacing with the prisoners" rule in place, so aside from a few roughing ups (Cons who want revenge for war time injuries, deaths), the Autobots are relatively untouched.</p><p>Enter one sick decepticon. This can be any mech, like Vortex, Motormaster, anyone actually. </p><p>The rule technically says "no fucking the prisoners", but the Con has decided that humping isn't actually interfacing, and so proceeds to pick one unlucky Bot.</p><p>The kink here is extreme mindfucking. I'd love to see the Con just leaving Ratchet's valve/spike untouched, but adding a lot of lube and bringing himself to completion just by thrusting in between his thighs. Ratchet protests that this isn't allowed, and that the Con going against Megatron's orders. But since it's technically not interfacing... This would be rape that is not actually rape under most laws, and I would love to see the fallout if possible.</p><p>Bonus:<br/>- If the Con talked in extreme detail about what he would do if the rule wasn't in place. The more mindfucking there is, the better.<br/>- If the other Autobots thought it was rape, but Ratchet tells them, "No, he didn't technically /fuck/ me," and they go: "Thank goodness". And it is true that it could have been worse (i.e. real rape) but Ratchet still feels extremely used. </p><p>Whew, I'm glad I got that out of my head for now. Actually, I'd love to see this frottage/non-con fic written that all characters would be fine with me. I would be really grateful to anyone who would give this a try. Thank you <3</p>
    </blockquote>





	What Happens In the Cells... Stays in the Cells

**Author's Note:**

> Written for this kink meme prompt: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/10462.html?thread=8898014#t8898014
> 
> I am kind of ashamed to be typing this out. I've been recently reading a lot of fic, and somehow the brain decided to mash little elements of them into one bunny. This has got to be the darkest bunny that has bitten me in a long while, but I couldn't get it out of my head, so here goes nothing:
> 
> Warning: Might be a little squicky to some people, and it has to be sticky to work technically.
> 
> The Autobots lost, and Ark mechs are being held in cells while the Decepticons mop up the last of the resistance fighters elsewhere. There is a "no-interfacing with the prisoners" rule in place, so aside from a few roughing ups (Cons who want revenge for war time injuries, deaths), the Autobots are relatively untouched.
> 
> Enter one sick decepticon. This can be any mech, like Vortex, Motormaster, anyone actually. 
> 
> The rule technically says "no fucking the prisoners", but the Con has decided that humping isn't actually interfacing, and so proceeds to pick one unlucky Bot.
> 
> The kink here is extreme mindfucking. I'd love to see the Con just leaving Ratchet's valve/spike untouched, but adding a lot of lube and bringing himself to completion just by thrusting in between his thighs. Ratchet protests that this isn't allowed, and that the Con going against Megatron's orders. But since it's technically not interfacing... This would be rape that is not actually rape under most laws, and I would love to see the fallout if possible.
> 
> Bonus:  
> \- If the Con talked in extreme detail about what he would do if the rule wasn't in place. The more mindfucking there is, the better.  
> \- If the other Autobots thought it was rape, but Ratchet tells them, "No, he didn't technically /fuck/ me," and they go: "Thank goodness". And it is true that it could have been worse (i.e. real rape) but Ratchet still feels extremely used. 
> 
> Whew, I'm glad I got that out of my head for now. Actually, I'd love to see this frottage/non-con fic written that all characters would be fine with me. I would be really grateful to anyone who would give this a try. Thank you <3

Ratchet stared around his small cell. He’d spent so long in here that he knew all the cracks. While the Decepticons were tracking the last few remaining free Autobots, the rest of them were kept in these cells. They could talk to one another, but they weren’t able to see each other; the cell doors stopped that. For prisoners of war, they were far better treated than Ratchet had expected. They had energon, and aside from various Decepticons coming in to get revenge, there were few problems. There was a definite ‘no-interfacing the prisoners’ rule, but coming in and slagging an Autobot to the pit was allowed. Provided they didn’t deactivate. Which meant that Ratchet was dragged out of his cell to fix up the poor ‘bot in question.

It wasn’t much of a life. But while they all still lived, there was some hope at least. They had lost the war, but while they still functioned, they might be able to escape and start new lives somewhere. If they could escape.

 

Ratchet tensed as he heard the main door to the cellblock open. Footsteps echoed down the corridors, and he prayed to Primus that the mech wasn’t coming for him. So far, he’d escaped with one minor beating, which Hook had lavished on him for reasons he still wasn’t sure of.

“Now, who shall I play with…” Fear raced through his systems as he recognised the voice. Vortex. So far, they’d seen precious little of the interrogator, and for that Ratchet was thankful. It looked like their luck had run out now. The footsteps stopped outside his cell, and Ratchet froze, staring at the door, hoping that it wouldn’t open. Hoping that Vortex was going to either Bluestreak to the left of him or Bumblebee to the right. Then he hated himself for thinking that. He was older than both of them put together. If anyone suffered at Vortex’s hands, it should be him. Not that he wanted to suffer. The cell door swinging open distracted him from his thoughts.

“Ah, medic…” Vortex grinned behind his mask, advancing on Ratchet.  
“What do you want?”  
“A little fun.” Vortex let his mask slide back, allowing Ratchet to see the grin there. He stood up, not intending to make himself an easy target for Vortex.  
“You don’t scare me.” Ratchet bluffed, even as he backed up a step.  
“Oh, are you sure about that, medic?” Vortex laughed, stepping forward, watching the way Ratchet backed away from him. “I can see you’re scared. Don’t worry… I’m not going to hurt you, much. You’ll enjoy yourself.” He leered.  
“You can’t do that. It’s against the rules!” Ratchet protested, futilely he thought. When did a mech like Vortex ever care about rules?  
“Oh, I know exactly what the rules say…” Vortex advanced on Ratchet, cornering him before lunging. Ratchet tried ducking out of the way, heading for the open door. A hand around his ankle stopped him and sent him to the floor with a cry. Twisting back to face Vortex, he kicked out, trying to stop Vortex coming any closer. Vortex laughed, easily grabbing hold of Ratchet and pulling him closer, metal screeching across the floor.

He could hear Autobots in the cells nearby calling out, trying to find out what was going on. Ratchet moved to answer them, but Vortex slapped a hand over his mouth. It wouldn’t stop him from speaking, but the threat was there.  
“Your precious little medic is going to be just fine.” He called out tauntingly, running his free hand down Ratchet’s side. Once he was sure Ratchet wasn’t going to speak, he straddled him, easily pinning Ratchet’s hands together. Quickly, he slapped a pair of energon cuffs on him, ignoring the glare he was getting.  
“What the frag do you think you’re doing?” Ratchet hissed, trying to buck Vortex off him. But the Combaticon interrogator was too strong. Too well trained at fighting for Ratchet to be able to do anything effectively. He squirmed, trying to move, trying to push Vortex away with his cuffed hands. Vortex just laughed, easily putting a stop to his manoeuvres.  
“Oh, I’m going to have some fun.” Vortex leered, letting his panel snap open. Horrified, Ratchet’s optics immediately darted down, and he flinched as he saw Vortex’s pressurised spike.  
“It’s against the rules to interface with prisoners.” He whispered.  
“I know that.” Vortex sat back, resting most of his weight on Ratchet’s legs. “I know exactly what the rules are. I also know how to get around them.” The smile he gave Ratchet was anything but comforting.  
“Don’t do this.” Ratchet begged.  
“Oh, I will. And you know I’ll enjoy it.” Vortex purred, reaching up and tracing down Ratchet’s cheek almost tenderly. Ratchet turned his head away, which was the most he could do with Vortex sitting on his legs. 

Vortex let his hands trail down Ratchet’s plating, groping and fondling as he wished. Ratchet brought his cuffed hands to push against Vortex’s chest as the Combaticon leant over him.  
“Oh what I wish I could do to you.” He grinned, licking up Ratchet’s cheek. The push of Ratchet’s hands against his chestplating did little to move him. Nothing short of Megatron storming in was going to stop him getting what he wanted. Ratchet tried to turn his head away, but Vortex’s hand grasped his chin, squeezing.  
“All the things I could do to you if I could interface with you.” Vortex sat back, gripping his own spike and pumping languidly.  
“Well you can’t.” Ratchet snapped back, optics drawn to Vortex’s spike.  
“Mmmm… but I can do something else.” Vortex reached into his subspace, pulling out a bottle Ratchet immediately recognised as lubricant. He squirmed, renewing his struggle to get away from Vortex. Distantly, he could hear the other Autobots calling his name, telling Vortex not to hurt him. But inside his cell felt like another world where only he and Vortex existed.

Ratchet managed to twist over onto his front, pushing himself up with his cuffed hands. Vortex straddled his legs, having moved to let Ratchet move.  
“Trying to get away?” He cooed. “But we could have so much fun.”  
“I don’t want to have fun with you.” Ratchet growled, trying to pull himself out from under Vortex. “I don’t want to do anything with you.” He grunted as Vortex slammed a hand on his back, pushing him back down to the ground.  
“Now that’s a shame. Because I want to do things with you.” Ratchet cringed at Vortex’s tone. The pressure on his back lifted and he could hear Vortex opening the bottle of lubricant. Frantically, he tried to move again, but Vortex’s weight was settled back on his legs. He turned briefly to see if there was anything he could do to escape and regretted it as he watched Vortex spread copious amounts of lubricant on his spike. He struggled again, only to gasp as he felt lubricant trickling onto his legs. Vortex had shifted back, giving him more access to Ratchet’s legs and was letting the lubricant dribble out of the bottle to land on Ratchet’s thighs.  
“Stop it!” He cried out, unable to do much to stop Vortex. Vortex’s weight on his legs stopped him from moving, and positioned on his front as he was, he couldn’t do much. He clamped his legs together, refusing to give Vortex access to his interface panel.

“Oh, perfect.” Vortex practically purred, leaning forward over Ratchet to nuzzle against the back of his neck. He thrust, slipping his spike in between Ratchet’s thighs. His groan sounded loud in Ratchet’s audio.  
“See…” He murmured quietly. “I have ways of getting around the no interfacing with prisoners rule.” Ratchet didn’t answer. He had no answer he could have given, even a sarcastic retort. He could feel Vortex’s spike between his thighs; the lubricant that Vortex had covered himself (and his thighs) in, easily slicking his movements.  
“Just think, if we could interface, I could shove my spike inside you.” He thrust, spike moving between Ratchet’s thighs. “I’d get you so wet. I know how to heat a mech up.” He paused, cackling. “Whether they want it or not.” Ratchet flinched.  
“I could make you suck my spike.” Vortex continued, thrusting slowly, enjoying the tightness between Ratchet’s thighs. “Thrust deep in your mouth and overload. Or I could pull back and cover you with my transfluid.” He licked the back of Ratchet’s helm, loving the way the mech shuddered. “Medics always like being so clean, but I could cover you in my transfluid and not let you clean it off. Keep overloading on you until you’re filthy.”

Ratchet whined at the mental images Vortex was creating. He didn’t want any of that. Didn't want Vortex anywhere near him. But he was, and all Ratchet could feel was the slip-slide of his spike between his thighs. He supposed he had to be grateful that Vortex hadn’t actually gone through on any of the threats he’d mentioned so far, and forced Ratchet to open his panel. But still, he felt dirty. Used.  
“I’d take you as often as I could.” Vortex carried on detailing exactly what he would like to do to Ratchet. “On your hands and knees, on your back, legs spread open for me.”  
“No.” Ratchet shook his head. “Would never.”  
“Oh, but I wouldn’t give you a choice.” Vortex grinned. “Just like I’m not giving you a choice now.” He nipped a wire in Ratchet’s neck, forcing a pained moan out of the medic.  
“That’s it, I want to hear you. Want to hear you screaming my name as I overload deep inside you.”  
“Frag you.” Ratchet bit back, trying to twist, but Vortex’s weight was too much.  
“No, I’d be fragging _you_.” Vortex corrected Ratchet, pushing the medic against the floor to stop any movements.

“I’d tie you up if you didn’t stop moving.” Vortex murmured, reaching to caress Ratchet’s arm. He’d propped himself up over Ratchet’s frame, leisurely thrusting still, spike trapped between Ratchet’s legs.  
“Just think how good you’d look; tied up, legs held open by a spreader bar, valve dripping wet. Just ready and waiting for me.”  
“It’ll never happen.” Ratchet snorted.  
“Oh, maybe not yet, but a mech can dream.” Vortex replied, totally at ease with what he was doing. It wasn’t quite like ‘facing, but it was near enough that his overload was building. Trailing his hand along Ratchet’s frame, he continued.  
“I could leave you tied up with a vibrator stuffed in your valve, keeping you wet and ready for me to take whenever I chose.”  
“Not going to happen.” Ratchet repeated, trying to convince Vortex (or was it himself?) that it would never happen.  
“I could have you begging for my spike.” Vortex continued as though he hadn’t heard Ratchet speak. “Or take you away so the rest of my team can enjoy you.” He thrust again, groaning. The charge was building, and Ratchet was beginning to feel it crackle across his armor as it transmitted from Vortex where their frames touched.

“Ah, sigma, yes. You feel so good.” Vortex called out, prompting some of the Autobots in cells nearby to renew their shouting. Ratchet shuddered, wishing he could do something to make Vortex stop. But there wasn’t anything he could do. And he was sure that if he did, Vortex would use some of the methods he’d been describing to restrain him and overload.  
“Just get on with it.” He half-growled, half-pleaded, wanting it to be over.  
“Oh, so interested in me overloading now, medic?” Vortex grinned, increasing the pace of his thrusts. The lubricant he’d used was warm now, easily conducting the charge from Vortex’s spike. This was just perfect; the fear and revulsion he could hear in the medic’s voice was almost more arousing that the slide of his spike between the medic’s legs.  
“Just want it over and done with.” Ratchet snapped back, trying again to push himself up with his cuffed hands. Vortex leant forward, pinning him back to the ground with his weight.  
“Oh, but I want to take my time with you.” Vortex cackled as Ratchet shuddered. Licking up the side of Ratchet’s helmet, Vortex murmured in his audio.  
“Just think of all the things I could do to you if I had all the time in the world. Do you think they’d try and rescue you? I don’t think they would.”  
“They would.”  
“No, I don’t think they would. They’d stop when they see you enjoying yourself. Because you are enjoying yourself, aren’t you?”  
“No!”  
“Ah, that’s only because I can’t touch you properly. If I could, you’d be screaming my name out as you overloaded.”  
“Screaming your name perhaps.” Ratchet growled. “But only to get you to stop.”  
“Oh, I don’t think so.” Vortex squeezed his hand between Ratchet’s frame and the ground. “You’re getting hot.”  
“That’s called friction you misclocked fragger.” Ratchet squirmed, trying to shift away from Vortex’s hand on his panel. The thought that the Combaticon could easily turn him over and slide his spike into his valve made him want to get away.

“Oh, I like it when you squirm.” Vortex bit the edge of Ratchet’s helm, forcing a sharp cry out of the medic. Again, he could hear other Autobots react, calling his name. He wished they’d be silent and just let Vortex get on with it.  
“Hear them calling out, wanting to help you?” Vortex purred. “They can’t help you. At the moment, I’m the only one who can help you. And if I had my way, you wouldn’t be harmed if you pleased me.”  
“Wouldn’t do that.” Ratchet shook his head.  
“You wouldn’t have a choice, medic. Just picture it, you on your knees, sucking my spike, maybe me whipping you.” Vortex groaned, speeding up his thrusts. “Me pushing you back, sliding into your tight wet valve and fragging you hard.” He let out another groan, thrusting hard and overloading between Ratchet’s legs. Ratchet felt his tanks roil, and he fought not to purge. Vortex continued to thrust through his overload, meaning that Ratchet’s thighs were covered with his transfluid. Ratchet shuddered, taking advantage of Vortex’s relaxed state to try and push him away.

Vortex let him move, rolling onto his back and trailing his fingers through the lubricant and transfluid around his spike. Ratchet rolled on to his knees, venting heavily as he tried to stop himself purging.  
“Oh, that was good. See, I told you I knew a way around the rules.” He stood up, digging a cloth out of subspace to wipe himself clean. He tossed it to the floor in front of Ratchet, grinning as the medic snapped his head up to look at him.  
“You’d be an even better ‘face.” He leant close and spoke before kissing Ratchet.  
“You’ll never find out.” Ratchet pulled back and spat. Vortex just giggled and undid the cuffs, swinging them around on one finger.  
“I’ll be back for you, medic, just you wait.” He smirked, closed his battlemask and left the cell.

Ratchet stayed still, listening to Vortex lock the door and leave the cell block. Then he purged, vents heaving as his tanks got rid of the thin energon they were given. He couldn’t believe that had happened. He felt so… violated. Dirty. Unclean. Used.

“Ratchet?” Bluestreak called his name, bringing him out of his dark thoughts.  
“Yes?” His voice sounded hoarse in his audios, and he automatically ran a diagnostic on his vocaliser. Nothing wrong. Perhaps it was the overwhelming emotions causing his voice to sound so bad.  
“Did he… Vortex… did he… you know…” Ratchet had never heard Bluestreak sound so hesitant. “… did he rape you?” Ratchet thought for a long while before answering, trying to decide what it actually counted as.  
“He didn’t technically rape me.” He ventured finally.  
“Oh, thank Primus for that, because I wouldn’t want something like that to happen to you, because it would be really awful and…”  
“Bluestreak!” Ratchet interrupted him.  
“Sorry. I’m just so glad it wasn’t that bad.” Bluestreak apologised, settling back down in his own cell.  
“Yeah…” Ratchet sighed. “Not that bad.”


End file.
